


Perils Of Celebrity, Pokey

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-06
Updated: 2004-01-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: It helps to have seen it ... but we're in make-believe land here.





	Perils Of Celebrity, Pokey

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Perils Of Celebrity, Pokey**

**by:** Lifeasanamazon

**Character(s):** CJ, Toby  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Toby  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine at all.  
**Summary:** It helps to have seen it ... but we’re in make-believe land here.  
**Spoiler:** None.  
**Author's Note:** This was written as a ‘Secret Santa’ for a ‘too dear’ friend. She’s worth every word in gold. 

CJ looked around her at the sea of neon and blinked in a vain effort to clear her vision.

"Remind me why we’re here?" The desert air made her throat dry and her voice was little more than a rasp. She coughed.

"Because you are ‘supposedly’ my good luck charm." Her companion seemed to have much the same problem and somehow looked even more disgruntled.

"What do you mean, ‘supposedly’? My middle name is ‘lucky’, I’ll have you know."

Toby lifted an eyebrow, "As in Claudia ‘Lucky’ Jean Cregg, or Claudia Jean ‘Lucky’ Cregg, or how about we just forget the Claudia Jean part and call you ‘Lucky Cregg’?" He inhaled deeply and sighed dramatically. "Makes you sound a bit like a dog."

CJ looked at him through narrowed eyes, "How did you know I had a dog named ‘Lucky’?"

"It was a guess ..." He cast a swift glance up at her. "I thought your dog’s name was ‘Fanny’?"

She pushed the hair out of her eyes and focused on the rapidly changing orange and green of Toby’s face. "It was. _Was_ , Toby, don’t you remember the tears, the grief?" She sighed again. "Lucky came after Fanny. Lucky so named because he wasn’t called Fanny. I got sick to death of Lord John Marbury’s comments. Apparently, the English don’t have such an affection for the name ... although how a nation who can call its Richards ‘Dick’ can afford to get on its high horse is beyond me."

Toby pressed his hands to his forehead. "You’re making my head hurt, CJ."

"It serves you right for having such a big one, Toby, although I think you’ll find that the neon hell that we are wallowing in is at least partly responsible." She stopped in front of a bar that was flashing ‘Hold ‘Em High’ at five-second intervals. "In here, now!"

Once off the sidewalk and safely ensconced in the murky bar, CJ pushed Toby into a low chair and pulled a bar stool behind him, perching herself on it and resting her hands on his shoulders. She smiled winningly at the waiter as he approached.

"Two Bloody Marys please."

She found herself on the receiving end of a nod and a smile that was practically sex in public ©. Turning back to the man slouched in front of her, she caught the end of a glare.

"Why do you do that, CJ?"

CJ decided not to feign ignorance. "Because I can, Toby. Because it makes up for all the years I was too plain and too gawky. Because it makes me feel good."

"I thought you were going to make me feel good. I thought this was about me?"

CJ looked hard at him. "You don’t like me looking at other men, do you, Pokey? You want me all to yourself. Well, I’m still waiting for you to make your move there, my man. Just appears to me that you can’t seem to make up your mind. Now be quiet and sit still."

The hands that had been resting on his shoulders began to work on the tension she had knowingly increased. Small circles, initially, that spread to cover his neck and upper arms and progressed to his temples. Her fingers trailed through his hair, lingered over the smooth skin on top of his head, softly affectionate. Even loving. She watched the waiter place their drinks on the table, and leaned forward to retrieve hers, her breasts pressing into Toby’s back as her hair fell across his face.

Toby reached up an arm and cupped her head, turning his face to inhale her scent as leaned over him. She lifted her glass to his mouth before pulling it away quickly.

"Drink your own! You’re paying for it."

"You have remembered that we’re playing for charity, haven’t you? I don’t earn much more than you and I have dependent dependants to clothe and feed."

"Not so much with the ‘we’, my friend. You’re the one who’s playing. I’m the mascot; Lucky Cregg at your beck and call."

"If I whistle will you come running?" Toby turned to look CJ in the eyes.

"Haven’t I always?" She drained her Bloody Mary. "Now drink up before I’m tempted to hump your leg."

Toby sighed and drank deeply. "You know I hate these, and yet you continue to buy them for me. I’m just a sucker."

"Yes, but you’re my sucker." CJ pulled him to standing and smoothed his hair one last time. "Always have been and lways will be." She wiped the tomato juice from his mustache. "Now let’s go and buy some hats."

*

The man in the shop pondered the couple in front of him. They were oh so familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Everything instinctively screamed gravitas and power, but he couldn’t reconcile it with the image currently being presented; the shorter man was modeling a huge Stetson, into the hatband of which his tall companion had stuck several giant Cuban cigars. He was also holding a Yankee’s baseball cap and two baby sized versions were clutched to the small yet perfectly formed bosom of his companion.

"If these don’t do the trick, then you’ll have to borrow from the audience again, Toby." 

The salesman watched as the woman tipped up her friend’s chin and pulled his nose gently. ‘Audience’, he thought. Maybe the man was a singer, or a magician even. Either way, he shrugged, the guy was obviously only a supporting act. Unless he played the crowd ... the woman, on the other hand, well ... she was in a different class altogether.

"We’ll take these, please."

God, her voice was familiar. Nope. No good. It’d haunt him forever, but there was no way he was going to ask. Not the kind of thing you did in a place like this.

He watched them carry their purchases out of the store and could have sworn he saw the woman pinch the man’s backside as they went out the door.

*

Toby looked up at the woman striding along side him in three-inch heels and a Stetson. "You know we’re broke, don’t you?"

"I can’t believe it didn’t work this time! Maybe I was just lucky that it was Danny who got to look down my blouse before. The distraction worked marvelously well then." CJ paused and grinned at Toby. "You know I only say that to wind you up. For a man who doesn’t want me for his own, you sure are touchy at who I come on to."

Toby mumbled into his beard.

"Oh stop being such a cliché, will you? You got the full body massage, or as near as damnit. All he got was a friendly kiss on the cheek. Every time you do this, the whole world wonders why I’m not shagging the Washington Post’s finest senseless, instead of waiting fruitlessly for you see the light."

Toby took a swig of the beer he had managed to swipe from the studio and sank onto the bench at the side of the road. He handed CJ the bottle and watched as she took a long swallow and slumped beside him.

"You know we don’t have enough money for two hotel rooms now, CJ?"

She snorted. "Is this you making your move?"

"No - I’m just saying that I’m all cleaned out."

CJ sighed and handed back the beer. "Well, I’m sure my credit card can stretch to it if we downgrade."

Toby pulled at his lip and focused on flyaway candy wrapper. "Or this could be me making my move."

CJ took time to savor the moment. Deciding against a victory drum roll, she threw an arm round his shoulders and pulled him towards her; dropping a light kiss on the top of his head, then resting her chin there.

"You’re not such a smooth operator, you know that, don’t you, Pokey?"

Toby blinked slowly and turned his face so that he could breathe. "There speaks a woman in a very big hat."

"There speaks a sexy woman in a very big hat, if you don’t mind."

"I still have to find out about the sexy part."

CJ swatted his thigh and pressed down firmly with her chin. "There have been reviews of previous performances that can only be classed as raves."

Toby tickled her neck with his mustache. "I am an exacting man, you know. I have very high standards."

"It’s a good job that I am a very high woman, then, wouldn’t you say? And what kind of man does that make you, Toby? Apart from very slow, I mean."

"Slow has its benefits. I’ve had some particularly glowing praise in that department myself."

CJ pulled away and grasped Toby’s hands in hers. "Come on, Toby, answer the question. What kind of man does that make you?"

Toby freed a hand, took a cigar from CJ’s hat and lit it. He leaned back into the bench and brought her fingers briefly up to his lips.

"A cigar, a beer and the love of a sexy, tall woman in a big hat - I’d say that makes me a _singularly_ lucky man, CJ, wouldn’t you?"

The End.


End file.
